


Out of Obscurity

by kishleylam



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempt at Humor, Cuties, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Newt is a Dork, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Spoilers, Suicidal Thoughts, Tags Are Hard, reader is an obscurial
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-08 06:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8833516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kishleylam/pseuds/kishleylam
Summary: You were trapped in an abusive relationship with no one to turn to, suppressing your powers until they exploded out of you. Your life took a turn for the better when Newt Scamander saved you from yourself and invited you to travel with him, but there's no such thing as a free pass, and you can't run away from your problems forever.~ON HIATUS~





	1. Abomination

You cowered in the darkness alone, the enormity of what you'd just done threatening to swallow you whole--the knowledge of the terrible darkness inside of you burning your soul, consuming your every thought until there was nothing but fear, grief, and self-hatred.

What did I just do? The thought replays itself over and over again in your shattered mind. You can feel yourself losing your grip--you can feel yourself succumbing to the darkness again. Soon, you will once again explode, both everywhere and nowhere at once. Helplessly, you paw at the ground as you crawl over to the decimated body of your beloved.

He was right. A sob escapes from your aching throat. I'm an abomination. No one but him could ever love me. And now...

Your shaking hands brush the hair out of his face. Deep lacerations mar his handsome features, and there is a darkness to the cuts that mirrors the one you feel stirring deep inside you. You wish you could take this back, that with your tears you could give back that which your anger had taken. His eyes, once dancing and full of life, stare blankly, pointlessly, into nothing at all. You don't have to look for a pulse to know the truth.

He is dead. You killed him.

All the sorrow and rage you are feeling tries to escape from your mouth in a scream, but your mouth is far, far too small to release the darkness that needs to escape, and you can feel it tearing you to shreds.

Formless, you thrash about in your misery. Without eyes or body, it's hard to really keep track of where you are or what you're doing. You can vaguely tell that you're crashing into buildings--well, crashing through them, really. You hear screams, but you can't tell whether or not they're your own. You soar into the sky, as if you could leave behind your pain on the ground, and then you can clearly see the Eiffel Tower. Its beauty strikes you for the millionth time since you moved to Paris, but this time, it almost angers you to see such beauty. How could anything be so beautiful when all you feel is ugliness?

Before you know it, you are once again gaining form, and your feet are touching down on the roof of a building. As the last smoky bit of your being is sucked back into place, tears begin to fall once more, harder than before. The world is still beautiful; it is unchanged. It doesn't seem fair that your world has been tilted on its axis but no one else will notice a difference. No one will know he's gone.

Once again, you feel yourself losing your hold on this form. You simply aren't stable enough to continue existing as yourself. You wonder how long it will take before the darkness envelops you completely. What will it feel like? Will it be what you feel now, but infinitely more? Or will it be a warm blanket, a deep sleep? You desperately hope for the latter. But deep down, you doubt that you will be so fortunate. You doubt that you deserve to be so fortunate.

The world is like a blur. Suddenly, you remember one your favorite verses out of everything you'd read over your life. You laugh humorlessly as you decide you may as well recite it aloud. After all, if you're going to go out, you may as well do it reciting the words of the great Bard.

"To be, or not to be- that is the question: whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them." You pace aimlessly back and forth atop the roof. Somewhere in the back of your mind, what's left of your survival instincts warn you to be careful, that you could fall and die. You sigh fondly at the thought. "To die- to sleep- no more; and by a sleep to say we end the heartache, and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd. To die- to sleep--"

"Hey!"

The sudden words make you jump and nearly fall of the roof. Although you don't recall seeing anyone up here with you when you first landed, and you certainly didn't hear anyone come up, there is now a tall man with messy blonde hair, hazel eyes, and a concerned expression standing on the roof a few feet away from you. Were you really so into your Hamlet moment that you didn't notice him come up? Or...?

"I'm sorry if I frightened you." You notice that he speaks In English, with an English accent--curious, since you live in France. He takes a small step closer to where you stand at the edge of the roof. "Please, allow me to introduce myself. My name's Newt Scamander. And may I ask yours?"

"It's (y/n) (l/n). What are you doing up here?"

"Ah. Well, I happened to be in France, and I come to hear reports of...incidents occurring in Paris."

You wrap your arms around yourself in an attempt to stop yourself from trembling. "My accidents."

He nods. "Yes, I'm...I'm afraid so."

Suddenly, your heart lurches and you take a half step back, but you're already standing on the edge of the roof. There's nowhere for you to go. "S-so you're here to ki--"

"I'm here to help you." His voice is reassuring, but measured. You catch his eyes flit between your eyes and your feet--or, more specifically, their proximity to the edge. "Please, could you just..." He makes a beckoning motion. Obliging him, you take one step forward so that your feet are no longer right along the edge, but you don't go right up to him like he seems to want you to. How could you? If he wants to help, then he's not the sort of person you want to hurt, and if you get too close, you'll only endanger him...

"It would be best if you just left me alone." Your voice cracks a bit. You feel yourself slipping. "I can't be helped."

"Yes, you can." He takes another hesitant step forward. "May I--may I please come a bit closer? Please, I only want to help." Something about his sincere expression and, well, the fact that he asked permission make you nod, encouraging him to come closer. He approaches you so that he is only maybe two steps away. "Thank you. Now, I've met people like you before."

"People like me?"

"Yes. You see, there's nothing wrong with you." His tongue darts out and wets his lips. "It's just that a lifetime of oppressing your powers has caused them to form something very, very dangerous." He takes your hand in his, giving you a look as though asking for permission once again. You incline your head slightly, giving him the okay. "I know you probably think of your abilities as a curse. But they can be such a blessing if you learn how to use them properly."

You shake your head defeatedly. "I don't think I can do that. These powers...they're just too chaotic. I couldn't control them if I tried." You take a shuddering breath. "I just want them gone."

"It's not your magic that's chaotic," he says. "It's this thing that your magic has been forced into. It's called an Obscurus."

"An Obscurus?"

"Yes. But please, we don't have much time." With his free hand, he pulls out a thin piece of wood--A wand, you realize.

"Y-you're a wi--"

"I'm not a witch. I'm a wizard. There are witches, but...they're not bad like you must think they are." He points the wand at you and your heart begins to pound uncontrollably. "Don't worry. Like I said, I'm not going to hurt you. I just have to remove the Obscurus before it..." He trails off.

"Before it what, Newt?"

"I'll, um, tell you later. After I've removed it. Here, take another few steps away from the ledge." You do as he says. He pauses for a moment. "You may want to close your eyes."

How comforting. However, you see no option but to do as he says. He begins mumbling words you don't understand, and although all you see is darkness, the darkness in your soul begins to alleviate. By the time he tells you to open your eyes, although there is still grief and fear in your heart, it feels like your mountain of anguish has been made into a molehill. And, most prominently, you feel a sense of relief, both for the fact whatever was inside you is gone now and for...something else, something you can't quite place right now.

"It's gone?" You say it like a question, but it's really more of a statement.

"It's gone," he confirms, a smile on his face. Beside him, within a clear bubble, is a massive black cloud. It seems to be pushing against the walls of its barrier, trying to get to you. "And you're okay."

"It would certainly appear that way," you say, laughing in spite of everything. You feel tears springing to your eyes once again, but this time, they are tears of...not joy, but something close. You find yourself throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him tight. He stiffens for a moment, but relaxes into it and tentatively wraps his arms around your lower back, returning your hug. You whisper, "Thank you so much."

"Don't mention it," he mumbles into your neck. Wait.

You pull back from him, your cheeks reddening from your momentary lack of propriety. "Um, sorry about that."

He shakes his head. "It's completely fine. I understand." But his cheeks look slightly pink as well.

You clear your throat. "So. What do you say we get off of this roof? I think we've got some talking to do."

 

"So, let me get this straight." You are sitting across from Newt at a café table. You both ordered sandwiches, but neither of you have touched them--you've been too busy discussing Obscurists, the wizarding world, and all kinds of things that make your head spin. "You're a wizard. I'm a witch. That...thing inside me--"

"The Obscural."

"Yeah, that. It would've killed me if it hadn't been removed?"

He nods. "Yes. They normally kill you before you can even turn ten."

If you were drinking something, you would choke on it. "Um...I'm 24."

His jaw goes slack and his eyes widen. "Then it's...it's really good I got here when I did."

"What are you doing here, anyway?" you ask. "I mean, you have an English accent. You're obviously a long way from home."

"Well, you remember me telling you about my creatures, right?" You nod. "Well, I heard a rumor that the egg of a Hungarian Horntail--that's a rare and dangerous kind of dragon--had been smuggled into the city of Paris. I was here tracking it down when I heard about you."

"That makes sense." You take a sip of your water. He fidgets uncomfortably.

"I notice you don't have a French accent, either." You stiffen at his observation. "American, huh? What brings you this far from home?"

You can feel your mouth go dry. How can you explain that you lost everyone and everything but your fiancée, so you moved here with him? How can you explain that even after you realized your mistake, you had nothing to return to?

"Love." Or so you thought. His eyes, which have generally avoided yours ever since you got out of a life-or-death situation, settle on yours, clearly probing for an explanation. You look away. "But that's gone now."

"Oh." He clears his throat. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too."

There's a long pause.

"(y/n), do you have somewhere to be?"

You hesitate. "No."

"Would you like to?"


	2. Welcome to London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You travel to London with Newt. WARNING: mild fluff.

You blink a few times as you process Newt's question.

"What are you saying?" you ask.

"Well," he says, clearing his throat. "I mean...I've been thinking lately that it might be time to get an assistant." He corrects himself. "A partner. And I can't exactly just leave you alone here, because I know that if you don't learn to control your magic you'll only being suppressing it again, and then you'd develop another Obscurus, and I don't know if you could survive that again, and you say that you don't have anywhere to be anyway..." His words fall from his mouth like a rush of water, one word blending into the next and almost overflowing on top of one another. It takes you a moment to mentally translate his speech.

"What exactly would that entail?" You scratch the back of your head. "You know, being your partner."

"W-well, a lot of things." As he speaks, he looks at the cafe sign, at your jacket, at his cup, at passerby; anywhere but your eyes. "You'd have to help tend to my creatures, help me with research at times, accompany me on expeditions, maybe talk to people so I don't have to sometimes--"

"Did you say expeditions?"

"Well, yes." His eyes come a bit closer to meeting your own. They stare consistently at your cheek, occasionally flitting up to your eyes for a brief moment. A smile begins to form as he talks about his work. "I mean, I am a Magizoologist. I travel, finding and getting to know all kinds of creatures. None of them are really dangerous, as long as you treat them the right way."

You take that to mean that quite a few of the creatures are, in fact, quite dangerous. You recall him mentioning that he came here to track down a dragon egg...

"So, it's not exactly 'safe' work then, is it?" It's more of a statement than a question.

"Well, ah, yes." His gaze drops further and he fiddles with his food.

As much as you hate your life right now, you don't really want to die. But...how can you turn down an offer like this? How many times in your life will you get the chance to go on a real adventure? Who knows, maybe a bit of excitement will help you forget about...everything.

Besides, you can always change your mind later.

"Count me in."

 

Two train tickets later, you and Newt are on your way to London. Tracking down the dragon egg proved to be absurdly easy; the thing hatched and caught a building on fire. Miraculously, he was able to calm it down with some gentle words and a lamb chop. He told you to stay put for a moment and went to the restroom, his briefcase and dragon in tow. He came out ten minutes later sans dragon. When you asked him about it, he simply said he would "explain later." You noticed that he also didn't check the briefcase into the luggage tram and wondered what was within, but decided not to press him about it. After all, he didn't seem the type to keep secrets without just cause.

As the countryside passes through the window, you try to imagine leaving your past along with the buildings and hills that disappear as you watch.

It's not very effective.

"So," says Newt, "When we get to London, we're just going to be turning in my book to my publisher."

You nod. "How long will we be staying in London? I mean, I assume you'll be wanting to take a break after being in the field for so long--"

"No!" He clears his throat. "I mean, I'd really like to get back out there as soon as possible."

"Ah. Love your work, do you?"

A small smile danced across Newt's face. "Oh, yes, I do."

His smile inspired a tiny one of your own. There was just something you always found so captivating about someone who had things they were sincerely passionate about. You wished there was something in your life you could have passion for; most of your life, your main "passion" had just been survival, plain and simple. Suddenly, you realize that you've been staring, and you jerk your eyes back to the window. A faint blush rushes to your cheeks. Luckily, he doesn't seem to notice.

"I can talk you on a tour of London before we go if you'd like, (y/n)." You look back at him. "Have you been before?"

"No, I've never had the opportunity. The only countries I've been to are America and France."

"Well, once the train stops in Calais, we'll be able to get on a boat and add 'England' to that list." He gives you a shy smile. "And after that...well, that list will grow long in no time."

"That sounds wonderful," you say truthfully, turning your gaze back to the window. You've always loved traveling. When you first arrived in Paris, it was downright magical. You remember moving to France with Damon. You remember him proposing to you under the stars. You remember a little too much red wine and a little too much kissing. You remember the day it all went wrong...

Newt clears his throat.

"Hm?" Your eyes burn slightly.

"Are you alright?" How can the concern on his face seem so sincere? He's only just met you.

"Oh. Yes. I'm...I'm fine."

He doesn't seem convinced, but he doesn't press you, either. "You can let me know if you're not."

"I'll keep that in mind." Along with a million other things you'll keep in mind.

Like the fact that even though things seemed perfect before, everything ended up going to hell. No matter how perfect things may seem now...you can't bring yourself to trust it. Trust him. Not yet.

 

The rest of the train ride passes at a pleasantly brisk pace, as does the boat ride. As you begin to near the dock, though, your anticipation grows and time stretches out before you like an endless plain.

When you're almost to harbor, you stand at the front of the boat, clutching the railing like a lifeline. Between your death grip on the railing and the brisk late autumn air, your fingers are almost numb. Faintly, you find yourself wishing you'd thought to grab a coat before you'd left. You didn't go back to your apartment to grab anything. If you had, you'd have seen him lying there, his lifeless eyes staring at nothing, the deep, pitted cuts where you'd--

"Excited?" Newt stands beside you.

You nod. "I can't remember the last time I was this excited about anything, to be quite honest." You look down at your white knuckles.

His gaze follows yours, and in a moment one of his hands is on top of one of your own. His hands are quite a bit larger than yours, so his hand nearly swallows yours. You note that his hand is remarkably warm. His thumb rubs slow circles on the back of your hand, and although his fingers are rough and calloused, there's something about the gesture that's incredibly soothing. 

"Wow, your hands are cold," he says absently. When he realizes he said that out loud, he smiles good-naturedly, looking just south of your eyes. His cheeks and nose are slightly pink--probably from the cold.

"I was just about to say the opposite about yours." You chuckle. "Your hand is like a furnace. You're really hot, Scamander."  His eyes immediately return to your own, the pink in his cheeks turning to red. You realize what you've just said, and your cheeks are suddenly as warm as his hands. "I-I mean...your body temperature...is, uh, high...?" You fake cough and look out at the water again. Your cheeks grow hotter and hotter, and you feel his eyes still on you. God, how embarrassing...

"Um...thank you. I think." He laughs a bit nervously. "Um, are you cold, then?"

"Yeah, I left my jacket behind." He removes his hand from yours and you immediately scratch the back of your head with it before returning it to the railing once more. "I wish I'd had the sense to go back home and get it."

You feel something warm and heavy settle on your shoulders. Newt's jacket.

"No, Newt," you say, starting to take it off. "It's my fault I didn't bring it. I don't want you to be cold."

His hands stop you from removing it. He pushes it further onto your shoulders so that it wraps around you. "I really don't mind. Besides, like you said, I'm...I have a, uh, high body temperature."

You laugh despite yourself. "Okay, Newt." You put your arms through the sleeves. "Thank you." Wrapping the jacket around yourself, you notice that it smells like fur, dust, and something distinctly male. Altogether, not a bad smell. You do hope that magical animals don't bother your allergies like regular animals do.

"No problem." He gives a small smile. "We can get you a new jacket when we reach London."

"That sounds good." Honestly, you think you'd be fine just wearing his jacket. The more you smell it, the more you like the smell, and it's cozy. But you're not about to tell him that.

Suddenly, you sneeze.

"God bless you, (y/n)."

You smile faintly. "Thanks." It looks like you're allergic to magical beasts, too.

You realize that you've entered the harbor. The captain pulls the fog horn.

"Welcome to London!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! School's winding down for the semester, and I think I've settled on an update schedule that works for me. I'm going to try to update three times a week: Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays/Sundays.
> 
> I'm an incredibly busy person, so if updates are occasionally late or nonexistent, please don't whip out your torches and pitchforks! I'll do my best.
> 
> If you like this story, please favorite it and comment as much as you'd like! Feedback from you all really feeds my motivation.
> 
> XOXO! -- Morgan


	3. A Shopping Spree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Newt go shopping and keep getting interrupted by pesky feelings. Luckily, Newt, inventor of being a Cinnamon Roll™, is pretty good at making you feel better with his awkwardness. Basically a Wikipedia entry for "Fluff and Angst".

After dropping Newt's manuscript off at his publisher's office, you practically bounce out into the street. After living in Paris for a few years your French is pretty good, but it's incredibly refreshing hearing people around you speaking in your native language. The crisp autumn air hangs heavy with fog and possibilities.

"Where are we going to go first?" you ask. "The Palace of Westminster? 221 B Baker Street?"

"221 B Baker Street?" he repeats, confused.

"Yeah. Sherlock Holmes's home." He stares at you blankly. "Good Lord. You're not familiar with Sherlock Holmes, are you?"

"No. Should I be?"

"You certainly should be. I think I have..." You trail off, rubbing your arms. You gave him back his jacket when you noticed that the chill was clearly getting to him. You mumble, "Um, nevermind. I guess it's still back in France."

"You left Sherlock Holmes in France?" he asks. "Why don't you just write him and ask him to come up, if it's so important that I meet him?" 

You nearly have to clap a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing. "Sherlock Holmes isn't a real person, Newt. He's a character in a book." He blushes hugely, and you actually do laugh now. "Don't worry about it. It's a Muggle book, so it's an easy mistake for you to make. I'll grab you a copy in a book shop."

"First, let's worry about getting you a proper coat. It's bloody cold out here." He motions for you to follow him.

After a while, you reach a pub called "The Leaky Cauldron." To say that you're puzzled would be an understatement.

"Am I meant to get a coat in here?" You point at the sign.

"Yes and no," he says, walking in. You walk behind him straight through the pub. He stops facing a brick wall.

He grins, making eye contact with you for once. "Watch this."

He touches the wall in several places with his wand and, just like that, the wall unfolds itself to reveal a crowded street.

"Welcome," he says, "to Diagon Alley."

"Sweet heavens..." you take a few idle steps forward. "What is this place?"

"It's the best shopping place in London for wizards. I'd even argue that it's the best shopping place in the whole U.K." He begins walking.

"You have your own shopping place?" You match his brisk pace.

"W-well of course!" He smiles, not looking at you. "We can't exactly sell wands and the like in front of Muggles, can we?"

"No, I suppose you can't."

"We. You're one of us, remember?"

You shrug noncommittally. "Hardly. I haven't been trained. I haven't even got a wand."

He stops for a moment. "You know, actually, I think maybe I aught to take you to Ollivander's first." He continues walking.

"Ollivander's?"

"Yes. The finest wand shop in the world."

Your heart begins to flutter. You're really going to get a wand!

As soon as you step in the door, the old man behind the counter takes notice of you.

"Hello, my dear." He smiles kindly. "You're a bit late, aren't you?"

"I'm...late?"

"Yes. You're here to get your wand, correct?" He doesn't actually give you a chance to respond. "Most people get their wands when they're eleven. You're eleven years late."

A chill runs up your spine. "How did you know I was twenty-two?"

He simply smiles. "If you do what I do for long enough, you get good at reading people. You've had a tough time of things, haven't you?"

"I..." You trail off.

"Here. I may have just the thing." He opens a box and sets a wand in front of you. "Eleven and three-quarter inches. Springy. Beech wood. Thestral hair core." You take it in your hand. "Go on, give it a swish."

You do so--and the ground shakes so terribly that boxes fall from their shelves. He takes the wand from your hand.

"Hm. I guess not, then. Perhaps...this one?" He hands you another. "Thirteen and a half inches. Supple. Maple wood. Unicorn hair core."

Hesitantly, you take it and swish it. To your delight, a few pieces of paper which had been lying about spontaneously fold themselves into tiny origami birds and flutter about the room before falling to the ground again. You feel an incredibly something in the pit of your stomach, like your reality being suddenly anchored.

"Was that--was that supposed to happen?"

The old man smiles. "Yes. Yes, it was."

You glance over at Newt, an ecstatic smile upon your face. His eyes had actually been looking at you, for once. His glance flits away for a second before meeting your eyes again. "Congratulations, (y/n)."

"Thank you!" Your spirit feels lighter than it has since...well, ever. You turn back to the man. "How much for this?" Shoot, you didn't exchange your francs for crowns when you got here. They're never going to accept your money!

"One galleon***."

"Galleon...?" You glance at Newt. He pulls a shiny gold coin out of his pocket and hands it to him.

"Thank you very much, sir," Newt says.

"Thank you." The man smiles, turning his attention back to you. "I hope your wand suits you well."

"Thank you!" You practically float out of the store. You try to suppress your enthusiasm a bit, since you know wands are commonplace in the world Newt inhabits, but a wide grin is spread across your face that you just can't get rid of. You turn your grin to the wizard by your side. "Thank you so much, Newt."

He smiles shyly. "Don't mention it. I already knew you wouldn't have wizard currency, anyway."

"Is there somewhere I can go to exchange my francs for...was it galleons?"

"No, I don't think so." Newt laughs lightly, beginning to walk down the street. "Most wizards don't have much use for Muggle currency. They don't go to any Muggle stores, they have few, if any, Muggle friends...a lot of wizards don't even have a clue about the goings-on of the Muggle world."

After a moment of you taking hurried strides to match his long ones, he slows down a bit. "Wow. That's crazy." You shake your head. "How can people live in such total ignorance about such a huge part of the world? If Muggles knew about the Wizarding community, they'd want to stay up-to-date on the magical goings-on."

He shrugs noncommittally. "I don't think many people care about Muggles, in general. Our community and theirs haven't traditionally gotten along. Although, it's worse in America." His nose scrunches up slightly in distaste.

"Oh, that makes sense." You remember hearing about the Salem Witch Trials. Before, you always kind of thought it was just a bunch of paranoid religious fanatics conveniently blaming their sins on a few poor "witches". But now...well, you guess the witches must have been real.

"We've got to get just a few things while we're here. I'm running low on a few ingredients, I aught to get you some things to learn basic skills with, and we've still got to get your coat." He speaks in a low, soft voice, and you constantly feel like you almost have to lean in to hear him. But the softness of his voice is soothing, too--like a warm blanket, or like cuddling with a puppy.

You can hardly restrain yourself from ooh-ing and ahh-ing as you go about Diagon Alley, running errands. Near the end of your trip, one store in particular catches your eye.

"Is that a magical pet store?" You point at the store in question.

He looks where you're pointing. "Ah, yes. Would you--would you like to go see?"

You nod earnestly and speed-walk over to the store in as dignified a manner as you can manage. The store, you find, is full of owls, cats, rats, frogs, strange puffy creatures... "Are these the sort of things you work with, Mr. Scamander?"

"Please, it's Newt," he says, scratching the back of his head and looking around. "These are definitely not the sort of creatures I usually work with."

"What, do you only work with dragons?" you ask with amusement. You see a gorgeous white and brown owl with a heart-shaped face and deep ebony eyes and crouch in front of its cage.

"Of course not!" he says. You cock your head, and the owl mirrors you. It coos softly. "I work with lots of creatures. Just...most of them aren't of the garden variety, like these ones..." You take a risk and stick a finger into the cage to pet the beautiful bird. Luckily, it doesn't bite you--it bobs its head slightly as you pet the side of its head. Suddenly, you are aware of Newt, crouching beside you. "Make a new friend?"

"I think so. What kind of owl is it?"

"He's a barn owl."

"Wow. From the name, I wouldn't think that barn owns would look so elegant." You smile at the bird. "How do you know it's a 'he'? Is there a spell for determining gender or something?"

He points at a small sign that reads "Barn Owl, Male, 2 galleons."

You feel your face redden. "Ah."

He chuckles. "Owls are popular because they make excellent messengers. You just attach a letter to their ankle, tell them where to go, and..." He makes a motion like a butterfly taking flight.

"That's kind of amazing." The owl coos in agreement.

"Would you like him? You know, to keep up with your friends and family?" He scratches the back of his head. "It might be hard to keep in contact with them otherwise..."

Right. Friends and family. Most people have those. You swallow, hard. "I, uh..." You sigh. Quietly, you admit, "I don't have anyone to write to."

"Ah." He's silent for a moment. You don't have to look at him; you can feel pity radiating off of him in waves. You hate that--you hate being pitied. Pity won't make your problems go away. It won't bring anyone back to life, or back into your life. It just makes you feel like a victim instead of a whole person. "Well, would you like to get him anyway? It seems like he really likes you. I'd hate to make you say goodbye."

"No," you say immediately, "I don't have any money, and you've already done enough for me--"

"Money's really not an issue. I'd love to do this for you."

You don't doubt that. But as you picture owing him more than you already do, a crushing weight settles upon your chest. Your breaths are labored and quick.

"Aw, come on," said Damon. "Honestly, after everything I've done for you...after I helped you escape to France after you killed your own parents--"

"You know that was an accident!'

"You still killed them. You drove away everyone but me, because I was the only one who cared enough to stay even though being with you is as dangerous as sticking my hand in a fire, after I took care of you, paid your bills, kept you fed...I did all of that because I loved you, and now you won't let me love you?" He buried his face into your neck, whimpering a bit with his parted lips moving against your exposed flesh. His hands, which you were trying to keep on your waist, kept trying to go lower, and lower, and lower...

"Damon, we're not even married yet."

His voice is a purr. "But we will be, baby, we will be..." He paused to kiss your neck. "Please, (y/n)." Suddenly, he was on top of you, and his purr turned to a growl. "You owe me."

You jerk yourself back to the present. "I don't want to..." Owe you. "Take advantage."

"You really wouldn't be taking advantage..."

You remove your finger from the cage and stand, forcing a smile. "Thanks for the offer. I think I'm ready to go now."

He frowns slightly as he rises, looking back and forth between you and the cage. You can tell he's considering buying the thing anyway. You take his hand impulsively and start walking out of the store--you don't need him getting you anything else. He follows you with surprisingly little resistance, and once you're out of the store, you glance at him to see that his face is pink and his gaze is stuck on your entwined hands. Hastily, you let go, heat rising to your face.

"Um, sorry," you mumble.

"Er--no, it's, um, that is..." He takes a deep breath. "You're fine."

You smile a tiny bit despite yourself. He's really awkward. But it's a very endearing sort of awkward.

The two of you walk in comfortable silence on your way out of Diagon Alley until he stops on a dime and turns around, a mischievous grin forming on his face. He points at a small pub.

"You've never had Butterbeer before."

You try not to grimace. "I'm not really a huge fan of beer. I'm more of a wine and whiskey type of person..."

"Butterbeer isn't anything like Muggle beer." He glances at you. "Come on, you've got to try some. It tastes like a big hug."

"What, precisely, does a hug taste like?" you ask with a laugh."Hmm..." He taps his chin for a moment. "Sweet, warm, and comforting."

You sigh dramatically. "Well, I guess I am a fan of sweet, warm, and comforting things."

His smile gets a bit wider. "You'll love this, then. Come on."

You follow him into the store. He orders two Butterbeers, hands one to you, and leads you to a table. You take a sip. Immediately, you experience a feeling like a heavy weight being lifted off your shoulders, like a shoulder massage after lifting something heavy, like...

"How does it taste?" His gaze incessantly flits between your eyes and somewhere south of your eyes. 

You grin. "Like a hug."

His gaze meets yours and he grins. It lights up his whole face, lifting his freckle-ridden cheeks and crinkling his hazel eyes. It's such an honest expression; you can't remember anyone else in your entire life who has smiled with that much honesty. Done anything with that much honesty. Not even Damon.

Well, especially Damon.

Your smile dims and your stomach turns when you realize that now, when you think about the man you lived with, who you loved for six years, who you killed, you don't feel much regret, or grief, or even sadness...Mostly, what you feel is relief.

Newt seems to pick up on your slight change of mood. "You alright?"

You take another sip of liquid comfort. It gives you the strength to brighten your smile again. "I'm fine."

 

*** adjusted for inflation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this a bit early because I happened to have time for once in my life! Also, just to make sure this is plenty clear, Damon was your fiancé. You know...the one you killed.  
> (LOL this chapter went so much longer than I thought it would...)  
> If you like this story, please leave kudos and comment! Your feedback really motivates me to write longer, better content more frequently. I always try to respond! <3


	4. The Briefcase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt finally shows you the inside of his briefcase.

After your shopping trip, you and Newt check out a room in a small, slightly run-down hotel. The two of you make your way up to your room through the narrow hallways. When you reach your room, Newt unlocks and opens the door and walks in. The room is as cramped as everywhere else in this hotel. It hardly has room for the one piece of furniture in it...

"There's only one bed," you blurt. Newt has already walked in and set his briefcase on the floor, but you stand tensely in the open doorway. He turns his head toward you.

"Well, yes. Hotels in London are ridiculously expensive, and it's not really necessary for us to have more than one bed..." he explains, but you don't really hear him. You don't really hear anything past the roaring in your ears and the echo of Damon's words: You owe me.

"(y/n)? Are you alright?" Newt's voice snaps you back to reality as he takes your hand--while you were stuck in whatever panic-filled trance that was, he opened his briefcase and walked over to you.

"I-I'm fine." You nod with a bit too much vigor.

He gives you a concerned look. "Are you sure?"

You don't have to think about your response. You nod, although with considerably less energy this time.

He doesn't press the matter, instead leading you by the hand towards the bed. Your heart pounds ferociously even as you tell yourself you're being ridiculous--he doesn't seem like he could hurt a fly. He stops at his briefcase, which lies open on the floor. Flashing you a smile, he says, "I think you'll understand why the hotel room doesn't matter much in just a minute."

Then, much to your surprise, he steps into his briefcase. And he keeps stepping, as though the briefcase was a trap door covering a ladder that leads to the room below this one. As his head disappears, you stand for a moment, flabbergasted. After a moment, his head pops up again.

"Coming?"

A smile begins to creep onto your face as you follow him into his briefcase.

Once inside, you can understand why he wasn't worried about the hotel room--there's an entire room inside his briefcase. It's kind of messy, but it's clear that the chaos is an organized one. There's a hammock, a large desk covered in papers and bottles...

"This is incredible, Newt," you say breathlessly. "You have an entire room in your briefcase?"

He grins. "If you think this is impressive, wait 'till you see the rest."

"The...rest?"

His answer is opening a door that reveals a beautiful green landscape just outside. Your jaw practically hits the floor. Without a word, you step out through the door and into the gorgeous green.

"Newt..." You can't even form a complete thought.

"Would you like to meet my creatures?" He steps beside you.

You nod, and he leads you through his world. What you saw at first was just the beginning--not only is there a loverly garden-like area, but there is a forested area, a snowy area, a rocky area...there are even gigantic bubbles of water with creatures swimming inside of them. You're so amazed, you are hardly aware of your steps as you walk.

"Would you like to feed the mooncalves?" he asks suddenly. You're not quite sure what a mooncalf is, but you nod anyway. He obviously wouldn't keep anything dangerous here, so you're not terribly worried. He leads you to some alien-looking silvery animals and hands you a bucket. "Here. Just throw these out over their heads."

"Alright..." You reach into the bucket and pick up a few orbs and throw them like he said. Instead of falling like you expect them to, they hover just above their heads. They jump up slightly to catch them. An amazed smile settles on your face. "This is incredible."

"I think so, too," he murmurs beside you, looking every bit as pleased with the creatures as you. You see a tenderness in his gaze as he looks at the animals, and in that moment, all your doubts are thrown out the window. There's no way a person who could care so deeply, so purely, about something and still have the capacity for harm. A tension in your heart you didn't know was there alleviates, making you feel freer.

"I have someone else I'd like you to meet tonight." He gives you a small smile and begins walking towards a forested area. "His name's Pickett."

"Pickett?" You giggle lightly. "That's an interesting name. Did you Pickett yourself?"

He laughs in a resigned way. "I suppose that joke was a long time coming."

"Wait, no one's made that joke before?" You shake your head in disbelief. "It's so obvious..."

He stops in front of a tree crawling with praying mantises. Well, not quite praying mantises...

"These are Bowtruckles. They guard trees used to make wands, and they're quite good at picking locks." He puts his hand up to one of the branches and a creature hops down to his hand, crawling up his arm and nuzzling his neck affectionately. He grabs it with his free hand and holds it out to you. "And this is Pickett."

"Hi, Pickett." You hold out your hands to see if it'll let you hold it, and to your surprise, it jumps right onto you, weaving through your fingers and crawling up your sleeve. "Did you name him Pickett because he picks locks?"

Newt reddens slightly. "Well, yes..." He scratches the back of his head sheepishly. "I suppose it's not the most creative name."

"I like it." You giggle as Pickett's legs tickle you. "Um, is there an easy way to get him out of my shirt, or...?"

"He should come when I call for him. Pickett, come on out." Pickett does not. "Come on, get off of her. She probably doesn't want you up her sleeve." Still nothing. After a moment, he reaches toward your arm. "Do you mind if I...?"

"Go ahead." You hold out your arm and he slides a hand up your sleeve, trying to find the Bowtruckle. Even though you anticipate the contact, a slight shudder still runs through you when his rough, calloused hand moves gently against your bare skin. Hopefully, he doesn't notice.

Suddenly, he jerks back, swearing.

"What happened?" you ask.

"He scratched me...Pickett, come on." He glances up at you apologetically. "I'm not quite sure what's gotten into him. He's always had some...attachment issues, but he normally doesn't take so well to strangers." He sighs. "I just got him to stop clinging to me and stay on his tree..."

"It's really not a big deal. I'm sure he'll come off eventually."

He doesn't look entirely convinced, but he sighs. "I hope so. I'm not going to try to force him to come off again. He could hurt you or I, or I could hurt him..."

"It's not worth that."

"I guess." He gives you an appreciative smile. "Thanks for not, you know...freaking out."

"Um, you're welcome." 

"We should probably get to bed. It's been a long day. Do you want to stay in here, or--"

"I can stay in the hotel room."

"Alright."

The two of you walk back into the hut and you go up the ladder. When your head is out of the briefcase, you see something that makes you panic.

"Um, Newt?"

"Yeah?"

"There's someone in our room."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there was no update this weekend. I was INCREDIBLY busy, and some...personal issues came up. My mom underwent surgery. She's fine now, but I was kind of helping to take care of her this weekend. Sorry this chapter's a bit late! The next chapter will introduce the REAL plot of this fic. Stay tuned!


	5. An Unwanted Guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your visitor is less than friendly.

As Newt steps out of the briefcase beside you, you eye the woman standing in the open doorway of your hotel room wearily. Your hand slips into your jacket pocket, where your new wand currently rests. You feel a bit better holding it, even though it's essentially useless to you right now--you don't know a single spell. The woman holds her own wand ready at her side in her left hand. Something about the firm grip with which she clutches the wand makes you uneasy. Newt closes his briefcase and clasps it shut.  
"I'm terribly sorry to intrude, Mister Scamander," says the woman. She smiles, and although it's clearly forced, it still highlights her beauty; her white teeth look even whiter against her dark skin, her hair hangs in elaborate braids, and her eyes are bright and intelligent. Everything about her seems sharp. Her face is all cheekbones and harsh angles, her shoulders are wide and pushed back proudly, and her figure forms a distinct hourglass. Although she's a bit petite, something about the way she carries herself and the way her eyes cut through you make her seem to take up more space than anyone else in the room. She extends the arm that isn't clutching her wand towards Newt. "Adla Barone. Ministry of Magic."  
"I-It's very nice to make your acquaintance, Ms. Barone," Newt stammers, "but, if you don't mind me asking, to what do I owe the pleasure?"  
"Her." She points at you. Your heart leaps our of your throat and tries to make a break for it.  
"Me?" You point at yourself.  
"Don't act so surprised, Obscurial." She directs her full attention at Newt. "She is a dangerous fugitive. I was in Paris when she destroyed half the city, and I've been assigned to bring her in."  
"She's really not dangerous anymore," Newt insists, stepping slightly in front of you. "I removed the Obscurus--"  
"You may have calmed her down, Mister Scamander, but I assure you, you have not removed it. It's a part of her. She's not safe to be around. I have to take her in."  
Could that be true? Your heart's racing. You glance over at Newt, looking for some clue as to whether or not she's telling the truth, but he doesn't look at you.  
"What do you want with her?"  
"She's a dangerous beast. She has to be put down." Her tone, which has remained steady and matter-of-fact up to this point, is suddenly laced with steel. "I wouldn't advise interfering."  
Your breath catches in your throat. You clutch your wand a little tighter. Your voice is shrill and tense. "Newt...?"  
"Right." He clears his throat, adjusting and readjusting his grip on the handle of his briefcase nervously. "Right, of course. I'll just...I'll get out of your way, then." He pulls out his wand.  
Panic threatens to choke you. "Wait, Newt, please--"  
Suddenly, he grabs your arm and everything happens very quickly.  
Adla lurches forward and grabs Newt's arm.  
The entire world fades away and suddenly you are in a forest. Nausea overcomes you and you drop to your knees.  
You hear the words "Petrificus totalus!" and hear a thud as a body falls to the ground.  
As your world fades to black, you feel a hand on your shoulder and hear someone say your name. Then you don't hear anything at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, it's a short chapter. I know. AND it's a cliff-hanger! Sorry about that. Well, not THAT sorry. ;)  
> We're finally about to get to the real plot. Who petrified who? And who has you now? How will you get away from the Ministry? I guess you'll find out!  
> If you like this story, please leave kudos and comment! It really helps motivate me.


	6. Christmas Special?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The author is really Salty™.

OKAY YOU GUYS. So, I had the cutest little non-canon Christmas special all typed up last night. It was ready to go. It had plenty of fluff. Then, this morning I went to post it...and the page refreshed.  
I lost the entire thing.  
I was really hoping that I'd have time today to re-type it, but I don't think it's going to happen. I still plan to update tomorrow. So. Here's my question for you all:  
Would you like me to re-do the really cute non-canon Christmas special and post it tomorrow? Or would you like me to just pretend it never happened and post a regular update?  
I don't feel like I can decide for you. I know the last chapter ended on a really big cliff-hanger, and I don't want to make the executive decision to make you wait longer, but I also don't want to deprive you of fluff right now, since the canon story is about to get really serious for a while.  
Which would you prefer? PLEASE let me know in the comments!  
I love you all, and I hope you have had, and continue to have, a very merry Christmas. (Unless you don't celebrate Christmas. Then I guess I just hope you had an awesome day. (; )


	7. Christmas Special!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's you and Newt's first Christmas together, and you want your gift for him to be perfect. Everything goes wrong.  
> This takes place in present day because I felt like it.  
> I cannot stress enough that this is NOT CANON for this fic. It is purely for fluff purposes.  
> Quick, unimportant notice about the blood status of "you" in this one-shot. The reader is a half-blood, with a wizard father and a Muggle mother. Her step-mother is also a Wizard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, both of the people who commented wanted a Christmas special, so here ya go!

"According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way that a bee should be able to fly. Its wings--"  
You can't hit the stop button on your phone's alarm quickly enough. You rub your eyes as your vision adjusts to the light of your phone. It's 2 AM. You remove your headphones and look over at Newt to ensure that he hasn't stirred. Luckily, he is still sound asleep. You slept with your headphones in and set your alarm to one of the most annoying monologues in history because you have a very important mission this morning: you have to go get Newt's Christmas present, and you can't wake him up. You struggled for months to find something perfect for him. He isn't easy to shop for; the only thing other than you that he really cares about is his creatures. Luckily, one month ago you found the perfect gift: a baby dragon. A Norwegian Ridgeback, to be precise. However, when you found him he'd only just hatched, and the breeders had a strict policy that said the dragons couldn't be taken home until they were at least one month of age. It made sense, and you probably couldn't keep a dragon secret for a month anyway, but the strict policy has created a slight problem.  
It was 2 AM on Christmas Day, and you are just now getting Newt's Christmas present.  
You slip out of the house as silently as you can, and Apparate to the meeting point just outside of the city. The breeder is already waiting there for you.  
"Hello," you say, trying to seem more energetic than you feel.  
"Good morning." She holds out a blanket-covered cage to you. "He's sleeping at the moment. You may want to take care not to wake him."  
"Thank you." You smile. You paid in advance, but you hand her a small tip anyway. "Merry Christmas."  
She returns your smile. "Merry Christmas."  
You walk away a bit before Apparating back home. You try to sneak back into the house unnoticed, but Newt is already sitting on the couch by the front door waiting for you. The moment you open the door, he stands.  
"Where did you go? I woke up and you had left..." He trails off and points at the cage. "What's that?"  
"Well...you see..." You sigh. "Ah, well. It's technically Christmas, so I guess there's no harm in letting you see it." You hold the cage out to him. "Merry Christmas!"  
You hear the dragon chuffing inside the cage; your conversation must have woken it. Newt gives you a look. "What did you get me?" he says in a playful tone.  
"Open it and find out."  
He grins and removes the blanket. "My God."  
"Do you like it?"  
"Well, yes, but--you brought a dragon into the house?"  
You pause, suddenly seeing the flaws in this plan. "...Yes?"  
"This is a Norwegian Ridgeback, isn't it?" You nod. His voice is suddenly very grave. "How old is it?"  
"It's about a month old."  
His eyebrows shoot up. "We can't have this in the house!"  
"Why not?"  
"Because--"  
He is cut off by the dragon shooting a plume of flame into the carpet. It quickly spreads.  
Newt sighs, exasperated. "That's why. Ridgebacks start shooting flames when they're one to two months old. We have to get this out of the house before it burns it to the ground." He reaches for the handle, but the dragon shoots more flames up, covering the bars of its cage, narrowly missing Newt's hand, and hitting the ceiling. He goes to grab the handle and quickly jerks back. The metal is now glowing a soft red where the flames hit it.  
"How should we get it out of here without touching the bars?"  
"My wand and everything is in the other room. We'll have to go get it." The two of you run into the other room, leaving the flame-spitting dragon alone. You grab Newt's briefcase (just in case) and he grabs his wand. You're quick, but by the time you get back the room is deluged in flame.  
"What do we do, Newt?"  
"I don't know! The fire is out of control, and I don't want to hurt the dragon..." He sighs and reaches for your hand.  
"What--" Suddenly, you're standing outside. Newt Apparated the two of you out of the house. "But shouldn't we do something?"  
"I think we may just have to wait it out. We can probably fix the place with a spell or two once the flames and the dragon have calmed down."  
You sigh. "I'm sorry, Newt. I just wanted to get you a perfect gift, but--"  
"Wait. Gift." Newt gasps. "It's still in there! I have to go back!"  
"What? Wait, Newt, no! It's too--" He Disapparates. "...Dangerous."  
You are frozen in fear for what feels like forever, but soon enough Newt Apparates back beside you, his clothes slightly burnt and a thin layer of ash covering his entire person. You immediately throw your arms around him.  
"What in Merlin's name is wrong with you?" you practically shout into his ear. A few stress-induced tears slip down your cheeks and land on his neck, leaving small clean dots. "What could possibly have been worth going back in there over?"  
With slightly shaking hands, he removes your arms from around his neck and takes a step back. "This." He takes a knee and opens the box in his hand--the box he went in for. Suddenly, everything clicks.  
"Oh my God..." You cover your mouth in disbelief.   
He takes a deep breath and speaks quickly. He's clearly rehearsed this. "(y/n) (m/n) (l/n), I love you more than anything in the whole world. I don't ever want to be without you, and I don't want to waste any more time not calling you mine. Please, would you do me the honor of--"  
"Yes. God, yes." A smile lights up your whole face, and you can't make it go away. You don't want to. A similar smile appears on his face, and as he takes your hand to slide on the ring, you feel like you've been sniffing Amortentia. You pause to admire it. It's matte steel grey with Celtic runes along the circumference.  
"I know it's nothing flashy, but I was kind of worried that if I got you a traditional ring, the Niffler would steal it." He smiles self-consciously. "Plus, the runes kind of reminded me of--actually, have you ever seen anyone make an Unbreakable Vow?"  
"Yes." You had. Your mom cheated on your dad, so when he remarried, part of the ceremony was that they made an Unbreakable Vow to stay true to each other, to love and cherish each other, et cetera.   
"The runes reminded me of the light that appears around the people making an Unbreakable Vow. Which seemed kind of appropriate..." He grins.  
"I love it." Your gaze drops to his lips. "I'd really like to kiss you right now."  
"Where's mistletoe when we need it?" he jokes.  
"We've never needed it." You throw your arms around him and pull him into a deep, long kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delayed post! I hope you all liked this! If so, please leave kudos and comment! It really fuels my motivation. I'll see you all again on Wednesday with the next regular update!


	8. What Comes Next?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wake up.

When you come to, you are lying on a couch with a blanket draped over you. Remembering the events that transpired before you passed out, you sit up suddenly, clutching the blanket in your fists.

"Newt!" you cry out. Almost immediately, you hear him respond from behind you.

"What's wrong?"

You turn to look at him, letting out a sigh of relief. He's standing in the doorframe right behind the couch, a concerned expression on his face.

"N-nothing. I Just woke up and remembered what happened just before I passed out, and I just..." You take a deep breath. "I wasn't sure who it was who yelled that spell."

"Ah." He walks over to where you sit and leans against the couch. "Well, you needn't worry. You're safe. That auror who came looking for you is, um..." He scratches the back of his head. "...Out of commission, so to speak. For the time being, at least."

You sit up a bit more, fully awake now. "What exactly did that spell do?"

He takes a deep breath and blows out slowly. "It petrified her. She won't be able to move until it wears off."

"And...how long will that take, exactly?"

"It depends. Just in case, I..." He leans his head back in frustration and stares at the ceiling. "I tied her to a chair."

Yikes. "Well, at least she won't try to arrest me now."

"It's only a matter of time. We have to leave soon."

"Why?" You don't wait for him to answer. "This Ministry. Are they, like, the magical police?"

"Sort of. They're the government of the Wizarding world. Aurors are more like the magical police. Well, more like the magical FBI."

"And you...just..." You gulp. "You just paralyzed one of them." You press a hand to your heart. "They want to arrest me...and now..." You gesture in his direction.

"Well...yes. But they just don't understand that you're not dangerous. People who develop Obscurals..."

"...They don't normally survive without them. I get it."

"We'll find a way to prove that you're safe. But until then, we can't let them find you."

"Or they'll kill me, right?"

He doesn't answer.

"What will they do to you for helping me?"

He doesn't answer.

"Newt."

"I don't know, okay?" He runs a hand through his hair. "And we're not going to find out, because we're not going to stay here for long. We're going to run until we think of something to fix this." He gestures expansively.

You're quiet for a moment. "Where is 'here', anyway?"

"My parents' place. Where I grew up." He sighs. "It was the first place I could think of."

"Are they here?"

"No. I'm not sure where they are right now. But we shouldn't stay here for long. I don't want to risk getting them involved in this."

Your eyes burn slightly. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, don't be." He sits beside you. "You didn't ask for everything that's happened to you to happen."

"And you didn't ask to get caught up in this."

"I didn't have to help you. I chose to. And I don't regret that." He gives you a small smile. "Now, don't worry. We're going to get through this."

A few tears escape and slide down your cheek, cold against your hot skin. You nod with little conviction.

"Now, come on. We've got to get out of England." He stands and offers you his hand. You take it and stand beside him. "Think of it this way. You're going to get to see Europe."

You force a smile. "Well, I have always wanted to do that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry so much for the late update! My family was in town for the New Year. Updates should be more regular from here on out. They'll also be a bit shorter since classes start back up tomorrow. I honestly love you guys, and I hope that this year is infinitely better than the last.
> 
> Also, you know what? If you have any one-shot requests, let me know in the comments. I'll do my best to get to all of them!


	9. HIATUS

So...  
I need to put this story on hiatus. I'm currently revising my first novel, and it's proving to be a fairly daunting task. As much as I love Fantastic Beasts, I simply cannot divide my creative energy so much and expect anything to be good quality. It wouldn't be fair to my novel, and it wouldn't be fair to this fic. I DO plan on returning to this story once I have more time to do so, but on top of my novel, my studies are taking up more time than anticipated, rehearsals just started up again, and I have a bunch of stuff to prepare before graduation. Ugh. I hate adulting.  
...Also I may have fallen into Voltron hell. That's, uh. Also taking up some mental energy.  
Anyway, I love you all and I hope to return to this story as quickly as possible. Thank you for understanding!


End file.
